Breaking Point Part V

[Robbie C.]

Castillo sat behind his desk, letting the shocked looks fade from his detectives’ faces. “And Homicide had no leads?”

“They had squat. But it’s still early and one of them was puking in the bushes.” Rico managed a thin smile. “Can’t say I blame her.”

“It reminded me of stuff I heard about in Nam, Marty. Someone went to a lot of trouble to set that up, but I can’t get why.”

“It was a message.” Castillo looked down at the desk, thinking back all those years to the steaming jungles and highlands of Vietnam and Laos. He recognized the technique. It was classic insurgent. Put fear into the people before you break their will. But he didn’t know who the message was for or why it was sent. There had to be something…

“Do we stay with it, captain?”

“No. Not unless we get a request from the chief deputy. We’ll go over the pictures and anything else we get and see if any of the victims tie back to our cases. But it’s not our case. Let Homicide run with it.”

“They’re welcome to it. I ain’t never seen anything like that in my life.”

“Stay on Carrera and Pancho. If the message is for traffickers, they’ll get wind of it.”

“Yeah, and maybe Garcia will turn up.” Crockett turned to Castillo. “We heard he was at The Overton the other night but didn’t see him. Small to mid level punk but he might be a way in for Prentiss. Maybe Cooper if the kid’s upped his status since we last crossed paths with him”

Once the two left, Castillo rocked back in his chair and closed his eyes. He didn’t know who the message was for, but he had a good idea what it meant. He’d been seeing reports for months of a new level of violence in the drug trade in Mexico and many parts of Central and South America. Beheadings. Burning men alive in car tires. Shooting your opponent wasn’t enough to send a message anymore. But leaving the heads of six of his enforcers on his front doorstep was.

But most of those acts were sloppy. Not random, but sloppy. This was different for another reason. Whoever did it seemed almost professional.

Shaking his head, he opened his eyes. It wasn’t their case, and he wasn’t going to waste precious man hours on it until or if it was. Switek and his team were making good progress with the arms dealers, and it was only a matter of time before Crockett and Tubbs made some more solid contacts. He’d heard them talking about shifting Tubbs back to the Prentiss cover, and he agreed with the move. Times were changing, and they had to change with them. And with the supply troubles a smaller-scale buyer would stand a better chance than a big deal-maker like Cooper.

And now he needed to let Pete know. Reaching out, he picked up the phone and hit a number. “Chief Deputy? This is Castillo. Let me tell you what my men found…”

 

A scream echoed through the basement, followed by a wet thud and a muted whimper. Rodrigo shook his head as he came down the stairs. “That’s enough, sergeant major. I need our friend here able to answer questions.”

The stocky man with a narrow mustache and graying hair cut close to his scalp drew himself to attention and mustered a salute. Sweat dripped from his chin and thick arms. “Of course, colonel. I await your orders.”

Rodrigo nodded, circling the man tied to a metal chair. Blood dripped from a broken nose and a series of cuts on his forehead and around his eyes and cheekbones. His right shoulder jutted awkwardly where it had been dislocated, and from experience Rodrigo knew he’d find several broken fingers missing their nails if he looked at the man’s hands. When he spoke, his voice was a low whisper. “What made you think you could do business in my plaza without paying the tax?

“I…I don’t understand.”

“Times have changed, amigo. Oh, they have changed. No longer can you come down from El Notre and do business as you please. My people make sure things go smoothly, but you must pay. You didn’t pay.”

“The Mendozas…”

“Are bitches in prison now. Or dead. And they were always guests here in any case.” Rodrigo chuckled. “You bastards were always so arrogant. This is not Columbia. Or Mexico. Here you must deal with me.”

“What…what do you want?”

“Information. A simple thing, yes? You remember Tico Moncado?”

“He’s dead…”

The voice was weaker now, and Rodrigo motioned to Gordo. “Give him some juice, sergeant major.”

The stocky man grinned and flicked the on switch on the cattle prod. Sparks arced, and the man tied to the chair screamed again.

“That’s better. Look. I know he’s dead. The puta should have died years ago. What I want to know is who did it. Who killed him and that grande puta Maynard?”

“I don’t know…Maynard. But we hear…”

“Go on.”

“They say it was Federales. Not DEA, but some other group. I don’t…the same who killed Doc…I…Matt Dillon…” The man’s head lolled down on his chest.

Rodrigo struck him then, hard. The crack echoed through the cellar, but the man didn’t move. Turning, he glared at Gordo. “I needed more from him, sergeant major.”

“I…my apologies, colonel.”

Rodrigo started to snarl, then caught himself. He needed Gordo Pascal. Both for his interrogation talents and his ability to get miracles from the men. “It is my fault. I should have suspected the damned monkey did too much cocaine. His heart must have been weak. Dispose of the body.”

Disappointed, he trudged back up the stairs, the man’s words bouncing around in his head. Federales he could understand, but who or what was this Matt Dillon? And Doc? The damned Mendoza clan had always been stupid peasants, and he kicked himself for thinking Pancho might have been different. Still, his little band of pretend narcos would note his disappearance, and at least one of them would understand the message in the boat. Now it was up to him to figure out if the words of a dead man had any value.

 

Rico tried to push the memory of the heads in the boat to the very back of his mind. “You know if we go after Garcia we can’t use The Overton again.”

“Yeah, I know. We got anything on other dives little Tony might frequent?”

Rico flipped through his battered black leather notebook. He knew he should replace it, but it had been a present from his brother, Raphael, soon after he’d graduated from the academy and joined the NYPD. It took insets, so he kept refilling it, but he couldn’t bring himself to replace the stained leather cover. “Rizzo’s. Big surprise. Tiki’s, another strip club. A couple of newer joints over toward Brickell.”

“Damn. You think he’ll go for Cooper?”

“Good question, Sonny. He might remember Prentiss from when he was buying pot from the Dominicans, but that was a few years back. According to his Metro jacket he’s been picked up a couple of times since then for coke possession. Nothing big, but he was always near something that could have been.” Rico flipped the notebook shut. “It could go either way. We might be better off sticking with Prentiss and trying one of the other clubs.”

“Yeah, I was thinking that, too.” Sonny looked away. “You good from this morning, partner?”

Rico let the question roll around in his head for a minute before he answered. “I don’t know, Sonny. It’s like just when you think you’ve seen it all in this job something pops up you never even considered possible. I mean, up north we had the Mafia hacking guys up and leaving bits all over the boroughs. But it was usually one guy, and they had to earn it somehow. You know, being a rat or skimming from the take.” He shook his head. “This…”

Sonny nodded. “Yeah. This is something else again. Maybe those bozos pissed off some old Voodoo cult or something.”

“But there were no symbols. No totems. If it was tied to Voodoo or something like that you’d find at least one totem or a sign.” Rico shrugged. “I’m just glad it’s Homicide’s problem and not ours.”

“You said it, pal.” Sonny’s eyes were distant. “Still…it’s a hell of a message someone’s sending if that’s what it is.”

“Don’t tell me you admire it.”

“No, man. But I’m thinking of the will it takes to do that. And the…hell…I don’t know. Lack of any real restraint.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. It just got to me is all.”

“You and me both, partner. But let’s see if we can get a box around Garcia. And maybe try to run down Carrera or Pancho again. My money’s on Pancho.”

“Yeah. Once a Mendoza, always a Mendoza. Greed runs in that family’s blood. Carrera’s trained to be a small-timer. Moncado didn’t exactly encourage initiative.”

Trudy’s voice cut into the conversation. “You’ll be waiting a day or two on Pancho, guys. According to Customs he flew down to Columbia yesterday. I’m trying to get the rest of his ticket information to see if he had other stops scheduled.” She smiled. “It’ll likely take a warrant, so it might not happen until tomorrow.”

“Solid.” Rico smiled across the room at her. “That narrows it to Carrera or Garcia. I’d put my chips on Garcia, just to see what he’s been up to.”

“I’ll go with that.” Sonny turned back to Trudy. “You want to go as Burnett’s head of security, Sergeant Castillo? Couldn’t hurt to have an extra set of eyes on the bozo.”

Rico grinned as Trudy’s eyes flashed. “Yes, sir, Lieutenant Crockett, sir! I’ll clear it with the captain and be ready to hit the street when you give the word.” She smiled. “And I’ll let you know when the info on that boat comes over from Metro-Dade. I have a feeling they’re going to turn it quick.”

As soon as she left the room Rico chuckled. “You’re lucky she didn’t slap the taste out of your mouth.”

“I know, Rico.” Sonny laughed along with him. “But it’s just fun to say sometimes. And who would have thought…Trudy Castillo.” He shook his head. “I’d hate to be the idiot who got between those two.”

“Yeah. The few who’ve tried have all ended up dead.” Rico didn’t want to give it much thought. It was the tax the Job extracted from time to time. He knew that better than anyone except maybe Stan. Partners died. Hell, brothers died. In the line of duty or from the aftermath of that duty, home alone when no one cared. It wasn’t something he’d thought about much before, but now that he was with Mindy it floated up in his mind when he least expected it. How the hell does Sonny deal with it? He already lost one wife to the damned Job, but then again Jenny can sure look after herself.

Jenny. From time to time Rico tried to figure her out. Where she’d come from. How her mind worked. And why she was so damned right for Sonny without even trying. And each time he gave up, but his mind just couldn’t stay away. Mindy he understood because they had so much in common, from jazz to nasty breaks with their families. But he’d never quite been able to figure out Caitlin, either. So different, yet so right for Sonny. Just like Jenny.

Shaking his head, Rico forced his thoughts back to work and the problem of putting a box around Antonio Garcia. He’d never actually met the chump, just head about him from some of the Dominicans he’d been working back in the day. Back then he’d been strictly small time, but ambitious. Too ambitious for some of the more relaxed Dominicans. Getting a hook in him shouldn’t be hard, and judging from his recent rap sheet they wouldn’t have to dangle much in the way of bait.

“You got that planning look on your face, partner. Fill me in.”

“Garcia had a rep back when I was working the Dominicans as ambitious. Some of them didn’t like that, but there were a couple who did. The last time I brought Teddy out he was looking to move up. We can put that word out and see if he bites. Especially if he sees me with Burnett.”

“Yeah.” Sonny nodded slowly. “That should work. Burnett don’t mess with little fish. And they know him at Tiki’s.”

“And Cooper’s never been there. Or the clubs in Brickell.”

“Burnett’s got no rep there unless some of the players happen to be there. We can work them, but it might take longer.”

Rico nodded, letting his mind chase possibilities. “Ya know, partner, let’s try one of the new spots. See if us old dogs can learn some new tricks.” He snapped his fingers. “Lester’s in that club scene a bit. Let’s see if he knows anything about these joints.”

Lester looked up from a circuit board when Rico walked into the Tech Room. “Sure, I get out to Brickell a bit,” he said. “Which clubs are you after?”

“Club Bass and Electro.”

“Yeah, I know those two. Electro’s so new it still has that paint smell. Club Bass is a bit older, like two years or so. Things move fast over there.”

“Any tips?”

“Yeah. You going as Cooper or Prentiss?”

“Teddy, mon.”

Lester chuckled. “Stick with Electro. Club Bass is hardline techno and trance. He’d stick out there with the rave crowd. Electro’s more varied. They play Reggae and stuff some nights and the vibe’s more laid back.” He grinned. “You’re taking Sonny, right?”

“Yeah.”

“That should be fun. Tell him to just go with it.”

“Yeah. Maybe someday speed will be ‘in’ again and we can go bust bars that only play country.” Rico smiled. “But then he’d have to go in with Stan.”

“Don’t be too sure. Stan sticks strictly to the King and the Rat Pack.”

“Why am I not surprised? Thanks for the info, Lester.”

“Any time, Rico.”

Back in their office, Sonny shook his head. “Lester said that, did he?”

“Yeah. They’re both dance clubs. Just be glad we’re not going to Club Bass.”

“Oh, I am, Rico. You wanna hit it tonight?”

“We’ll check with Stan first. If he’s planning on meeting with those biker chumps he might need some extra backup.”

It was just after one when the photos and background Homicide promised came buzzing through the main fax machine. Trudy brought them in after she’d run the handful of names through their system. “They said actual photos are coming, but they wanted to get the fax over so we’d have something now.”

“Thanks.” Rico looked up from his own notes. “Anything come back on the names?”

“They only had three. Three out of eight. And those three were low level.”

Sonny looked up. “Let me see.” He scanned the list. “Yeah, I know one of them. He was a driver last I heard. Likely the one they had behind the wheel of the go-fast.”

“I still don’t get it. Why go to all that trouble for punks?”

Trudy shook her head. “We may never know. Anyhow, I thought you’d want to see those.”

“Thanks.” Rico smiled. “And you’ll want to have your dancin’ shoes ready. That chump Garcia likes a club in Brickell called Electro.”

Sonny groaned. “And I’m looking forward to it like a root canal. We’ll let you know when it’s a go. I don’t want to run an operation at the same time Stan might need backup. I’m guessing the boss said you could play with us?”

“Yes.” She smiled again. “Let me know when it’s go time.”

Rico nodded. “Lemme check and see if Stan’s going tonight. If not, we’ll make our play. I’ll have to get into character first, anyhow. Teddy be allergic to Versaci, mon.”

Stan had just come up, and he answered Rico’s question with a grin. “Naw. Team Elvis ain’t lacing up the blue suede shoes until tomorrow night at the earliest. Got a call yet to make, and I want to make that moron Skaggs sweat a bit. You kids go have fun.”

“It’s a go,” he said to Sonny and Trudy. “I’m gonna go get in character. You wanna just meet me at Electro?”

“Not really, but it’s gotta be done.” Sonny grinned. “I’ll bring Trudy and hit you there about nine if that works.”

“Righteous, mon. Righteous. We get the good beats rollin’ and the smoke-time flowin’.”

“Dear God, that sounds like a Jamaican Noogie.”

Rico grinned. “It does, don’t it? I might just keep it around. But at least Teddy don’ like ‘Emingway.” He ducked around the doorframe before Sonny could throw anything at him.

Mindy sat on the couch as he changed back at Casa Cooper. “You should let me go with you. I could swat you on the ass again.”

“But this time I’d swat back. And that would just get all kinds of strange.”

She giggled. “You’re right. I don’t think Sonny’s ready for that.”

“But that doesn’t mean I won’t when I get home.” He smiled, shrugging into one of Teddy’s trademark floral shirts. “It’s all in a day’s work, mon. Teddy Prentiss is back an’ lookin’ for action.”

It was just before nine when Rico wheeled the big Caddy into Electro’s parking lot and parked between  another old Caddy and what looked like a Mustang someone had taken a cutting torch to. He spotted Sonny’s white Ferrari parked closer to the building and grinned. He would have expected his partner to show up a bit late to avoid the music, but maybe Trudy had put the screws to him.

Electro was one of those clubs where you felt the music before you could hear it. A faint bass vibration tickling the hairs on your arms before you got closer and your ears started to pick up what sounded like a distant heartbeat. Rico didn’t mind techno, but he wasn’t an aficionado like Lester. Still, what he heard through the walls and the door sounded good.

A quick nod to a doorman who looked like he’d snorted his meals for the last three days and Rico was inside. Strobes bounced off the walls and mirrored panels, during red lipstick black and blinding you if you weren’t careful. Rico was careful. Making his way to the bar, he ordered rum, neat, and went looking for Sonny and Trudy. If he knew his man, he’d find them toward the back where you could see the door and have your back to the wall.

Again Sonny didn’t disappoint. He’d parked at a table well past the dance floor, in a darker corner within a quick jump of the emergency exit. It was pure Burnett, and once again Rico admired the transition Sonny seemed to make with no effort. But it also worried him. There was a viciousness to Burnett that could come out with no warning. And he still wasn’t convinced Sonny had that side of himself under as strong a control as he said.

“Teddy! Long time no see!” Sonny was in full character. “Sit down! This is Peaches, my head of security.”

Trudy nodded, her lipstick turning black in the pulsing light. She looked all hood in her tight shirt and jeans and totally dangerous. “Charmed.”

“Righteous!” Rico sat down, shifting close so they could talk without shouting as much. “Any sign of our friend?”

“I slipped the bartender a fifty. He said Little Tony usually comes in by ten.” Sonny looked at his watch. “So we got a few minutes.”

“Cool. I might go mingle a bit and see if I can spot any old friends of Teddy’s. I’m sure Burnett’s got loads of pals here.”

Sonny’s smile was thin and pure Burnett. “Not likely.” He turned toward Trudy. “You want to go with him or stay here?”

“I’ll sit with you. Look kinda odd if your head of security went wandering off with some random Island dude.” She smiled. “No offense.”

“None taken, pretty lady. None taken. Teddy Prentiss be right back, mon.” Smiling easily, Rico got up and started working his way around the big dance floor.

Electro might have been a restaurant or a bar and grill in its former life, but the entire center of the building was given over to a slick dance floor with lit squares that flickered and pulsed with the beat of the music. Towering in the exact center was a podium for the DJ, a slender girl wearing oversized headphones who looked totally focused on her work and the two turntables in front of her. The bar was off to one side near the door, and tables in dark alcoves surround the dance floor. But by design the DJ was the center of Electro’s universe, and everyone else revolved around the turntables and mixing boards.

Rico brushed past three girls wearing crop tops and skintight miniskirts, their eyes pinpoints from coke and who knew what else, dancing like there was no tomorrow. Just down from them was a skinny guy, at least Rico assumed it was a guy, with a pink feather boa wrapped around his neck and jeans that looked like they’d been sprayed on. Next to him was a guy with no shirt and at least eight gold chains and sunglasses that looked like he’d stolen them from Elton John. It was a wild scene, and he figured he might come back with Mindy at some point just to sample the night life. But this was work, and he had a job to do.

Ignoring the breasts that kept flashing out as the girls waved their arms over their heads, Rico scanned the crowd. Looking for familiar faces. He spotted a knot of what looked like Dominicans over by the far wall, and recognized at least two of them as contacts from the old days. He sauntered over, grinning his Teddy grin. “Righteous! Image me findin’ you mans here!”

“Teddy!” The bigger one who went by the name Carlo stuck out a hand. “Man, I thought you’d hustled on back to Jamaica.”

“I did, mon. But no island can hold Teddy Prentiss!” Rico gripped the offered hand, slapping the big man on a tattooed shoulder. “But now I be workin’, mon. Busy times.”

“Ah, you’re lucky, mano. It’s been quiet in our neighborhood since a buncha shit when down. Bad shit, you know.” The others looked at him and nodded like he’d spoken great wisdom.

“”Sorry to hear that, mon. I’d be helpin’, but these days Teddy is on the other end of the deal, seen? I be buyin’, not sellin’.”

“Can’t help you there, bro. But Little Tony might.”

“That rasta? He be the mon I be lookin’ to see. You eye him before me, tell him Teddy Prentiss is in the back with another mon an’ a lady.” Reaching into his pocket, Rico pulled out a hundred and slipped it to the big Dominican. “And now we square, mon. I think I owed you that from last time, seen?”

“My man! Hell yeah I’ll send that little puta your way. But you watch him, ok? He’s a shifty little punk.”

“Righteous. You boys take care now.” Easing back into the crowd, Rico held back a smile. If Carlo said there was nothing moving in their hood, there was nothing moving. But it didn’t surprise him. After the Task Force took out Doc and sicced the FBI on what remained of the two dominant Dominican gangs the whole place had been quiet as a church on Saturday night.

Back at the table he filled the other two in. “Garcia’s the one making the moves as far as the Dominicans are concerned,” he finished, waving for a waitress and ordering more drinks.

“You trust this Carlo character?”

“No, but if he had action he would have pitched it to Teddy. No question. And I think he’ll send Garcia this way if he sees him. That bunch is all about currying favor, and right now they think Teddy’s a mover and a shaker and they’re just sitting by the side of the road trying to thumb a ride.”

Trudy nodded. “Makes sense. I’ll bet most of them are keeping their heads down until the FBI heat goes away. And don’t look now but that might be our boy heading this way.”

Antonio Garcia looked like he’d just missed the cut as a stunt double for John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. Or maybe he’d watched Scarface six times too many. Rico couldn’t be sure. But the white tux stood out in Electro as much as a cowboy hat and boots would, especially when the tux actually matched. And he only had one gold chain. Still, from the way some of the dancers waved and clapped him on the back Rico could tell he had a bit of a following. Must be giving out free samples of whatever he’s selling he thought as the thin man of indeterminate Latin origin came closer. Depending on the neighborhood he’d claim either Cuban or Dominican heritage, but never Puerto Rican.

“Tony! Mon! Righteous! Carlo said you be here, mon, and here you be.” Getting up, Rico closed the distance and shook Garcia’s hand. “Been too long, mon. But Teddy Prentiss be back and ready to make things happen. Sit. Drink with us.”

“Yeah, I ran into Carlo and he said you were here.” Garcia’s voice was as thin as his Errol Flinn mustache and almost as greasy. “I thought you’d gone back to the Islands never to return.” He looked over and did a double take. “Sonny Burnett.”

“That’s right.” Sonny leaned back in his chair, the Ray Bans still firmly in place. “You finally find your way out from under your rock, Tony?”

Rico raised his hands. “Be still. It’s business we be doing, yes?”

Sonny nodded. “Yep.”

“Who’s the lady? She available for a dance or something?”

“Touch me and I rip your arm off and make you into a popsicle when I shove it up your ass.”

“Tony, meet Peaches. She runs my security.”

Garcia’s face went pale. “Of course. Sorry. I spoke out of turn.”

Trudy’s voice was pure Overton mean. “You did, little man. I’ll let it go. Once.”

“Righteous!” Rico waved for the waitress. “Pretty lady? Another round, and get our new friend a scotch. The best. My gift to you, seen?”

“Now that we got the social shit done, let’s talk business.” Sonny looked around. “I ain’t got all night.”

“Slow now, mon. Tony just got here.” Rico looked over at Garcia and smiled. “Teddy Prentiss be back to do business, seen? Except this time the mon be buyin’ and not sellin’.”

“No offense, but you hit Miami at a bad time for that.”

Sonny sighed. “I keep hearing that from you under-achievers. I got boats that need work.”

“I get that, Burnett. And if I had some you’d be the first guy I’d look for. Even if I don’t like you much.”

“This ain’t a popularity contest, jack.”

“Why so slow, mon? We hear back home production is up down south.”

“You got me, man. Some kinda shit going on down there is all I know.”

Sonny snorted. “Turf wars? Fact of life, Tony. Like the little rats sorting things out after old Tico Moncado got shuffled off.”

“Naw, Burnett. The way I hear it something else is going on down there. Maybe it’s tied in with that Moncado crap and maybe it ain’t. I’m just a middle man like you. Whatever it is started in Peru or Bolivia or one of them other shit places.” Tony stopped talking when the pretty blonde came back with their drinks. His eyes followed the fifty Rico gave her and blinked when he waved off change. “It’s mostly bar talk, but the way I hear it someone started charging a tax for drugs to move and got nasty as hell if people didn’t pay. At first it was local, then it spread.”

“Sounds like a hell of an idea.”

“Maybe so. I don’t know much more than what I heard. And that was whispers mostly.” Garcia smiled, showing capped teeth. “Whoever was doin’ it scared hell out of the boys down there. They don’t talk much, and they don’t move no product without payin’ the tax first. At least the ones I deal with.”

“So how long we wait, mon? I got resaurces needin’ a place to call home.”

“Look, Teddy. It’s tight now, man. I can check around, see what we can get moving.” He looked over at Sonny. “And I take it Burnett’s gonna do your moving for you. Good call. He’s the best going right now.”

“You call I haul. And if you try to screw me over I bury your ass.”

Garcia laughed, but it was a forced, thin thing. “Same old Burnett. All business. But I guess that’s how you stayed in the business so long.”

Trudy leaned across the table. “You sayin’ something, little man?”

“No, lady. I ain’t. Not a bit of it. But I ain’t sure I can bring enough in for it to be worth your boss’s time. Not right now, anyhow.”

“You make those calls, seen? Let me know, mon. I be here the day after tomorrow. Same time. I don’t see you, I call the deal off.”

“Sounds good to me. If I can make a deal I’ll be here. And if there’s a deal, you’ll want Burnett with you. Odds are we’ll have to move fast. With the trouble down south some dudes been takin’ to ripping off other dealers.”

“Righteous. We be here.”

“And anyone who tries to rip me off ends up gator chow. Might want to let your friends know that, Tony.”

“Hell, man. They already do.” He turned to Rico. “Having this guy haul your product is like having insurance, Teddy. Only fools and crazy people cross Sonny Burnett in this business.” Draining the last of his scotch from his glass, the miniature John Travolta got up from his chair and nodded. “Now if you all will excuse me, I gotta go try to get laid. Been a long damned week.”

Trudy waited until he’d swaggered off into the crowd on the dance floor. “That is one punk I’d love to take down an alley.”

“Yeah. He’s a charmer. No question.”

Rico shook his head. “I worked him a couple of times back with the Dominicans. Tony’s a chump, but he’s usually got solid info and if he says he’s coming through with a deal he comes through.”

“He carry weight?”

“Naw. Usually he’s a broker. The guy in the middle who can duck if anything goes wrong.” Rico looked out over the dance floor, watching the strobes change colors with each passing heartbeat. “You think there’s anything to what he said about trouble down south?”

“Gotta be. Nothing else explains the slowdown we’ve been seeing.”

Trudy looked at her watch. “I’ll check it out in the morning. But right now you gotta take me back to the office, Sonny. It’s past my bedtime.”

Rico chuckled. “And you don’t want to explain to Castillo why you kept his wife out too late.”

Sonny chuckled, but it was still the dry Burnett rasp. “You got that right. Let’s hit the road, Peaches.”

“I gotta get a better name.”

Rico watched as they headed for the door, nursing the last of his drink and thinking about what had happened. He was sure Garcia knew more than he’d said about what was going on with the supply down south, especially in Columbia. The chump had ties there going back a few years, and it wouldn’t be like him to be in the dark. But he also knew whatever it was would come out in time. Garcia was also terrible about keeping a secret.

What he’d said about Sonny also stuck. Burnett was a kind of insurance policy. There had been real fear in Garcia’s eyes when he saw Sonny at the table. And Sonny had been deep into Burnett. Maybe too deep. Rico couldn’t tell, and it worried him. He’d seen Burnett come out when Trudy had been shot, and again when they’d been chasing down the Hitler Youth. That side of him was closer to the surface than it had been for some time, and Rico still had the image of Sonny Burnett pointing a pistol at him and almost blowing his head off.

Shaking his head, he finished his drink and headed for the door. It was time to get back to Casa Cooper, where he knew Mindy would be waiting with some cool jazz on the stereo and likely not much on herself. And he still owed her a spanking.

[mjcmmv]

Uh oh. Rodrigo's vicious and he's getting close to the identity of the Federales!